A Tactician's Life
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. Joy, Sadness, goofiness... They're all part of a mech's life - including Prowl's. Companion to the Patient H-18 series and based on the 28 Character meme. The stories are set in chronological order, starting from Prowl's childhood.
1. Drinking Energon

_Featuring: Jetcloud (an OC of mine who's Prowl's dad)_

_---------------------_

Jetcloud came online slowly, daring a peek at the time on the computer screen. He sighed when he realised it was time to get up, but there was nothing for it. He had work to do, after all.

He got up from his berth, noticing that Swiftstrike wasn't at his side. She was obviously getting ready to head to her office, which meant that his energon cube was already on the table and waiting for him. It wasn't just any kind of energon though. It was a special mix that was sure to give Jetcloud the boost he needed to handle several hours of lecturing at the Academy.

When he walked up to the table, however, he was surprised to see that there was no such energon cube there.

_Odd._

"Swiftstrike," he called out, "Didn't you prepare my--?"

Jetcloud never finished his sentence, because he suddenly caught sight of a small black and white, vehicle-shaped blur rushing up to him. Before Jetcloud had any time to react, the blur did six rounds around the perplexed mech, and then vanished into another room and out of sight.

Jetcloud blinked several times, staring in the direction the blur left. Finally, he called out to Swiftstrike again.

"Never mind!"


	2. Jealous

_Featuring: Swiftstrike (an OC who's Prowl's mother) and a surprise canon character. :)_

------------------

Little Prowl sat on the edge of the pavement, looking dejectedly at the group of sparklings that were across the road. There were six of them, and they were playing some sort of game. Prowl didn't know the name of the game but, as he kept watching the sparklings, he deemed it was simple enough. Two of the sparklings were the 'hunters' and threw the ball to hit the rest of the sparklings, the 'hunted'. All the other sparklings had to do was dodge the ball.

It seemed fun, something that upset Prowl even more.

"What's the matter, Prowl?"

The black and white sparkling looked up at his mother. Swiftstrike was standing next to him, regarding him in a puzzled manner. She obviously noticed his sadness, but she didn't know what to make of it.

Prowl pointed at the group of sparklings and heaved a sigh. Swiftstrike frowned momentarily, then her face lit up in realisation.

"You want to play with them?"

Prowl nodded.

"Well, did you ask them?"

The sparkling bowed his head. "No…" he answered shyly.

She smiled and gave him a light pat on the back. "Then go on."

Prowl hesitated. He looked back at his mother.

"What if they say 'No'?"

She chuckled softly. "What if they say 'Yes'? You will only know if you find out."

Prowl understood. Making himself as tall as possible in an attempt to muster his courage, he approached the other sparklings. Addressing all of them at once didn't seem right though, so he focused on just one: a black and white one that seemed about his size and age.

"Um… Hi," he said, a bit more hesitantly than he cared to admit.

The other sparkling faced Prowl and a broad smile tugged on his lips. "Hi right back at you. Wanna play?"

Prowl blinked in surprise. That was much easier than he had expected!

His shock must have been evident, because the other sparkling laughed heartily. "I saw you standing over there," he explained, pointing in Swiftstrike's direction. "If you hadn't come, I would have walked over to get you myself. You know the rules of the game, right?"

Prowl nodded with a small smile, the last remnants of embarrassment swiftly ebbing. "I'm Prowl, by the way."

The other sparkling's visor shone brilliantly. "I'm Jazz."


	3. Naive

_Featuring: A couple of giggling female OCs_

--------------------------

Young Prowl sat quietly in a corner, reading a datapad that he picked up out of the many that were inside the library of the Academy. It would be some time before his father finished with his lecture and, if Prowl were to expect him, his best option would be to occupy himself somehow in the meantime.

And yet, as time passed, he couldn't shake off that unsettling feeling that there was someone watching him; he could feel his doors twitching at the sensation of a pair of optics locked on him. So, he decided to turn around slowly, hands clenched in fists in case he would have to defend himself.

The two femmes that were sitting at the desk behind him just giggled and waved at him. They didn't seem older than him and they were certainly friendly, which was why Prowl figured it was only polite that he should wave back at them. That made them giggle even louder for some reason, and they leaned close to each other to whisper something.

Prowl was downright perplexed now. He didn't do anything wrong, did he? Trying to control a blush that treacherously formed on his face, he checked himself in case he had some kind of funny stain on him.

The femme that was closer to him actually smiled, and she seemed ready to say something. Just then, however, her friend pointed at the time reading on the computer monitors, obviously declaring that it was getting late. So, the two femmes just stood up and walked to the exit.

Prowl watched them go, still trying to understand what had just happened. And his father was hardly helpful when the young mech told him all about it. Jetcloud simply chuckled and patted his son on the helm with a tinge of pride in his optics.

Prowl sighed. Maybe his mother would explain things when she got back home.


	4. Turned On

_Featuring: Ratchet, Hound and Windcharger_

------------------

"Ratchet! I think I've found another one!" Hound cried, his optics locked on the monitor of the scanning device he was holding. If those indications were correct, it meant there was another survivor amid the smoking ruins of Praxus.

"Hold your turbo-horses, I'm coming over," Ratchet said. He handed an energon cube to a shivering femme that he and Hound rescued breems ago, then instantly rushed to the scout's side. He activated his own scanners to pinpoint the location of the active spark.

"The signal's faint," he noted with a frown. "It must be coming from underneath those iron beams just in front of us."

"This looks like a job for me then," Windcharger said, overhearing the medic. He stepped closer and stretched his arms, triggering his magnetic power. The iron beams quaked momentarily, then rose up in the air as though they weighed nothing under the control of the minibot's electromagnets. As soon as Windcharger placed the beams harmlessly a few feet away from the rescue team, Ratchet hurried to the injured mech that was uncovered.

The medic couldn't help but wince at the pitiable sight before him. The black and white mech was curled on his side, his plating and doors melted in more than just several places. Though none of the wounds seemed life threatening, Ratchet didn't dare think how long the mech had had to stay trapped under those iron beams, tormented by the pain of his burns. He was only thankful that the mech was unconscious and thus not suffering.

"How is he?" Hound asked, still watching Ratchet leaning over the injured mech.

"He'll live," the medic answered, "But I'll have to change his--"

He almost jumped when the mech's optics flickered on at that very moment. A look of confusion reflected through them, and the sound of static reached Ratchet's audios as the mech tried to say something.

The medic didn't waste any time. He gently lifted the mech's head to direct the unfocused gaze on him.

"Can you hear me?"

Ratchet wasn't sure if the mech did in fact hear him at first. In the end though, the mech blinked once in affirmation, optics struggling to stay locked on the medic.

"Good," Ratchet said, keeping his tone calm and collected. "I know it hurts for now, but we're gonna fix you and you're gonna be fine. Do you understand?"

The mech was clearly in pain. Nevertheless, he forced himself to speak. "Yes."

Ratchet allowed himself the luxury of a small smile.

_A/n: And the time of Prowl's innocence is over. :(_


	5. Silly

_Featuring: Wheeljack_

_---------------------------_

The Autobot officers had to admit that the newest addition in their group was fascinating. He wasn't only one of the most hard-working and dedicated soldiers within their ranks, but he also showed an amazing ability to analyse every kind of situation and come up with the best tactical course of action in a matter of seconds. It was only natural that he managed to climb up to the position of tactician and second-in-command in less than a stellar cycle after being recruited.

In spite of all that, the particular tactician had a certain setback, too. One that the top Autobot engineer intended to solve once and for all.

"Are you sure about this, Wheeljack?" Prowl asked. One of the pads that were attached on his forehead slipped out of its place, and Wheeljack had to strap it back onto the helm.

"Yup," the engineer answered, still checking all the settings on the machine he was stooped over. "It's quite simple really. Whenever something happens that your logic circuits identify as irrational, your processor relays automatically shut down. That way, your processor doesn't get overheated."

"Then may I ask why we're meddling with it?" Prowl tried not to show it, but the straps on his head and the strange glint in Wheeljack's optics while the engineer worked fervently on his project had the tactician more than just a bit nervous.

Wheeljack's expression clouded in a frown. "I thought we all had already agreed on it. We can't risk having your computer shut down in the middle of a battle. That's why we're trying to work around the problem."

Prowl sighed. He hated to admit it, but Wheeljack was right. His computer crashes were unacceptable if he were to offer his services as a tactician and second-in-command at 100% efficiency. Simply avoiding any illogical situations that would cross his path was a highly impractical solution.

"So, Prowl?" Wheeljack said, cutting off the tactician's train of thought. "You want to go through with this? I'd rather you gave it a shot, but it's okay if you don't want to."

Prowl stiffened and clenched his jaw. He was the second-in-command. He did _not _shy from anything; it wasn't proper behaviour and it hardly set an example to the rest of the Autobots.

"Do it," he said, steeling himself for what was to come.

Wheeljack nodded his acknowledgement. "Okay. You'd better brace yourself though. This might prove tingly."

Prowl opened his mouth to ask Wheeljack what did he mean by that, but he never got the chance. A wave of electricity surged through him, making all his circuitries jolt. Prowl had barely enough wits to brace himself, or he would have certainly jumped up to the ceiling. Error messages flashed before his optics continuously, but there was nothing he could do.

So he simply let the darkness claim him.

--------------

"Uh… Prowl?" Wheeljack said worriedly. Prowl was awfully quiet and, frankly, the engineer didn't know what to think. He was sure that he had checked and triple-checked everything so nothing would go wrong; which was why he was quite shocked when he walked up to the tactician and saw that Prowl was, in fact, offline.

That wasn't right at all. The electrical current shouldn't have been that powerful, Wheeljack had set the machine to the lowest possible level. Prowl should have felt a simple twinge, not gotten knocked out cold!

This, however, wasn't the time to investigate the how and why. Wheeljack had to see if Prowl was all right first.

"Prowl? Come on, this isn't funny," he said, poking the tactician on the chest-plate. "Wake up, will you?"

Finally, just when Wheeljack was about to open Prowl and start emergency repairs, Prowl stirred. A groan escaped the tactician's lips and he pushed himself to a sitting position.

"Wha… What happened?" he asked, checking his surroundings in confusion.

"Welcome back, that's all I can say. You sure gave me a scare," Wheeljack said. He patted the tactician on the shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Prowl blinked several times and checked himself before turning to Wheeljack's direction. "I feel… fine. Thank you for asking."

_That's a relief,_ Wheeljack thought.

All sense of relief vanished when Wheeljack saw a strange goofy grin forming on Prowl's lips.

"And who might you be, my good sir?"

_Uh oh._

"It's me, Wheeljack! You know… the engineer!" Wheeljack answered. He was feeling quite alarmed now, and he didn't even bother hiding it.

Prowl positively _giggled_. "Pleased to meet you."

It was official. This wasn't good at all.

"Okay, Prowl, let's take this one step at a time," Wheeljack said. "Can you stand?"

Prowl frowned, perplexed. "You mean I'm not standing?"

Wheeljack stared at the tactician in disbelief. "No."

"Oh. Bummer."

The engineer sighed. "Prowl…"

Prowl just giggled again and pointed at Wheeljack.

"You know… you're funny. Your thingamajigs flash blue every time you talk."

"Well, yeah, they're supposed to do that--" Wheeljack started lamely, subconsciously touching his speakers.

Another, _louder _set of giggles cut him off.

"You did it again!" Prowl exclaimed, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Hey, how about you say: Can you can a can as a canner--?"

"That will be enough," Wheeljack declared, covering the tactician's mouth with his left hand. While Prowl was still busy giggling, Wheeljack opened his communication frequencies to contact Ratchet. He hoped the medic would arrive soon, because, once the tactician was fixed, Wheeljack would go straight to Optimus Prime and suggest Plan B.

Leave Prowl's processor be.


	6. Daring

_Featuring: Tracks_

_---------------------_

It was supposed to have been a typical patrol mission. Go out, have a look around and return to base. Even so, neither Tracks nor Prowl expected to come across a group of Decepticons, testing a new chemical compound that altered Cybertron's atmosphere by acidifying it. Worse, the Decepticons thought it was a good idea to test their invention on the two Autobots that dared spy on them.

The results were simply terrifying. Although the rain seemed harmless at first, Prowl realised that the liquid was slowly short-circuiting his and Tracks' relays. Their radio transmitters were one of the first to malfunction and, even though Prowl managed to send out a distress signal on time, he wasn't sure if anyone actually heard it. And, without any sort of cover within sight, the two Autobots were left vulnerable to the cruel element, taking more and more damage by the minute.

When Prowl calculated their chances of survival under those circumstances, he came up with the meagre number of 3.4%. He nevertheless forged on, an offline Tracks slumped over his shoulders and the acid rain still pouring on both of them. And he kept pressing on, until he finally caught the welcome sight of Trailbreaker dispersing the foul clouds with his forcefield.


	7. Angsty

_Featuring: Ironhide_

_--------------------------_

Stepping carefully so he wouldn't slip by accident, Ironhide climbed up another large pile of debris and looked at his surroundings. All he could see were the ruins of Praxus stretching for miles in every direction. Despite that, he held his gun tightly, ready to fire the moment he saw anything suspicious. He didn't want any unwelcome surprises.

The sound of an incoming transmission cut through the eerie silence, almost startling the veteran Autobot.

"Optimus to Ironhide. Please, respond."

Ironhide activated his transmitter, still keeping a lookout for anything unusual. "Ironhide here, Chief. We're almost done with the scouting mission."

"Did you find anything?"

"Nope. Whatever Decepticons Blaster detected must have left before we arrived."

"Understood," Optimus said, "Did you contact Prowl?"

"Not yet."

"Then do it now. It's time you returned to Iacon."

"Got it, Chief. See you back at base," Ironhide replied and ended the transmission.

Well, that was that. Ironhide would have preferred to find some Decepticons and scrap them, but it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps he would have better luck next time.

He lowered his gun, finally deeming that he was alone, and opened his communication frequencies again.

"Prowl, this is Ironhide. We've just got new orders from the big guy. It's time to go back."

The tactician didn't respond.

"Prowl, do you copy?"

The only answer Ironhide got was silence, something that made the veteran Autobot frown. He could still pick up Prowl's energy signature and, furthermore, there weren't any Decepticons around. There was no way Prowl could have gotten into trouble, even if he were asking for it. So why the persistent silence?

Deciding to look into matters, Ironhide totted his gun for good measure and headed to the direction of Prowl's energy signature. The signal was quite powerful, so Ironhide was sure the tactician couldn't be far away. Indeed, it didn't take long for Ironhide to track the signal to one of the few standing buildings within the destroyed city.

The veteran Autobot winced at the sight of the particular structure. More than half of it had already crumbled to a useless pile of steel, exposing the innards to the weather elements. A disturbing groan emanated from unsteady beams that did a miserable job at holding the rest of the building together, sending a chill to Ironhide's spark.

It didn't take a great mind to see that the building wasn't safe at all, so Ironhide cursed under his breath when he realised Prowl was inside it. He opened his communication frequencies again.

"Hey, Prowl, if you can hear me, you'd better get out of there. I don't want to write your obituary in my report, is that clear?"

There was no answer once more. Since there was nothing for it, Ironhide entered the building. He didn't plan on having a fellow Autobot's death in his conscience, no matter how surprisingly recklessly said Autobot was acting at the moment, and he was even prepared to _carry_ Prowl out of there if it came down to that.

It took him longer than he would have liked to climb up the stairs because he had to watch his step constantly, but Ironhide finally managed to reach the top floor. Moments later, he found Prowl himself, standing in the centre of a small room that had probably served once as a nursery, if the toys scattered all about were any indication. Ironhide opened his mouth to snap Prowl out of it so they could go back to Iacon.

He stopped midway, however, when he noticed something peculiar. Prowl's head was bowed and his doors drooped behind his back, as if an invisible burden had settled on the black and white shoulders. And Ironhide couldn't help but stare at the white hands as they held onto a battered holopad so tightly that it was miracle the frail thing didn't break.

Only then did Ironhide make the connection. They were in Praxus, _Prowl's_ city.

Could it mean that this building was Prowl's home?

When realisation caught up with him, the veteran took a few steps back and allowed Prowl the privacy he needed. He didn't say anything. He just watched Prowl as he remained rooted on the spot, and he couldn't help but wonder what was going through the mech's processor. Was he seeing in his mind's optic happier times, when he was a sparkling and kept running to a pair of loving arms that he identified as his mother's? Was he remembering his father's face? Was he recalling the countless times that he spent in that room, laughing and playing? Or was he wondering why those times were gone, never to return?

Ironhide knew he wouldn't get an answer, nor did he want to, frankly. So, he waited patiently until it was enough. Until Prowl placed the holopad almost reverently back on a scorched table nearby and then turned around, a steely expression on his features as he walked out with a mere nod in Ironhide's direction.

Until the time for regrets was over and Prowl was a soldier again.


	8. Dominant

_Featuring: Optimus Prime_

-----------------------

"I thought I might find you here."

Optimus turned his gaze from the window, where he could see the luminescent city of Iacon stretching for miles on end, and faced Prowl. The tactician was standing a little farther from him, regarding him in quite the inquisitive manner.

"I wanted some astroseconds to myself," the Autobot leader admitted.

Prowl nodded his understanding, but he never took his optics off Optimus.

"You seem troubled," he noted.

Optimus shook his head. "Just tired. The negotiations with the neutrals of Perihex didn't go as I had hoped they would."

This time, the tactician stepped closer, so that he was standing next to Optimus. "What did they say?"

The large mech heaved a sigh. "They told me I should never have opposed Megatron in the first place. That by separating the Cybertronians into two fighting factions, I've only led Cybertron to a civil war that will cause the destruction of our home."

Prowl's expression reflected his disapproval. "They shut themselves from the truth, so it's easy for them to make such accusations."

"I know. I still wanted things to turn out differently," Optimus said ruefully.

"Perhaps they will in time," Prowl mused aloud.

"Perhaps."

Prowl didn't speak again. He just patted Optimus on the arm in reassurance and turned on his heel, heading for the exit.

"Prowl?"

The tactician stopped in his tracks and turned around once more. "Yes?"

"Do you ever wonder why you joined the Autobots?" Optimus asked.

Prowl didn't hesitate in his answer.

"Never. I made a choice, just like the rest of us."

"But how did you know it was the right one?" the Autobot leader insisted.

"It was logical," Prowl replied. "You're a natural leader, and you feel connected to those around you; just as they, in turn, feel connected to you." He pointed at his chest-plate, where his spark pulsed. "You changed us, making us wish to fight for something better. Where others look at you and see the destruction of Cybertron, we Autobots look at you and see hope."

Optimus took in Prowl's words and accepted them as good answer. "Thank you, my friend."

Prowl simply nodded and headed for the exit. But, he stopped again midway, since there was one more thing he wanted to say to his commander.

"Go to sleep, Sir. You need it."

Optimus raised an optic ridge in mild surprise. "Is that an order, Second-in-command?"

Prowl looked over his shoulder, a never-before-seen pert smile on his lips.

"Yes."

The Autobot leader couldn't help it. He chuckled.

"Then I'm going," he declared, and followed Prowl to the exit.

------------------------

_A/n: Partly inspired from Knights Of The Old Republic: The Sith Lords._ _:)_


	9. Happy

_Featuring: Jazz_

_----------------------_

Prowl sat on a chair next to the berth, waiting patiently for Jazz to come online. He was alone in the repair-bay, and the place was quiet. Ratchet had already retired to his dorm, since Jazz was out of danger and all the saboteur needed now was some rest. The medic didn't bother to tell the tactician that he should try and get some rest too though. No matter how tired Prowl felt, he had no intention of leaving before talking to Jazz.

A twitch of fingers made Prowl look up in mild surprise. A ghost of a smile formed on his lips when he saw Jazz's visor flashing momentarily, a sign that his friend was coming around at last.

"Hey…" he said.

Jazz certainly didn't expect to hear the tactician's voice. He turned his head at the sound and looked at Prowl.

Prowl's smile broadened, albeit subtly. "How are you feeling?"

Jazz made a sound that resembled a weak chuckle. "Like I've been royally slagged," he replied huskily, his vocaliser failing him miserably. He looked at his surroundings in confusion. "How did I get back to Iacon?"

"Inferno's rescue team found you," Prowl said. "They dug you out of the debris and carried you here as fast as possible."

"Oh," Jazz said, nodding his understanding. "Tell them I said 'Thanks'."

"I will," Prowl answered. Still, the tactician was far from over. He regarded the saboteur with quite the disapproving look. "Thanks for not following my orders."

"I'm sorry, man," Jazz said with a sigh. "I had to turn back and make sure the bomb went off."

"And almost kill yourself in the process while at it," Prowl pointed out dryly.

"_Almost,_" Jazz argued teasingly.

Prowl huffed. "You're incorrigible. But," And at that he flicked the saboteur's arm in a playful manner, "I'm happy to say you're also right."


	10. Well Shagged

_Featuring: Anyone you like. It's left open __to interpretation for that very reason. ;)_

_------------------------_

He didn't want to move, lest he woke up the sleeping form that lay so close to him despite the ample size of the berth. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but stare at the attractive face as the soft light of the moon illuminated it, or place a soft peck on the smooth lips that whispered such sweet nothings to his audios not so long ago. The sigh that flowed out under his touch tickled his faceplate, yet Prowl didn't mind at all. It had been a perfect night, and the tactician almost wished there could be more nights like these forever.

But he knew it wasn't possible. Both lovers knew that, if Prowl were to continue offering his services as Prime's second-in-command, he had to do it without setbacks. So, they had agreed that this encounter should be a one-time thing only and that would be that. And Prowl intended to keep his word, for he knew that his lover would do the same. It was the right thing to do.

It still hurt.

It was ironic. Prowl was always blamed that he was just a shell, devoid of such illogical and distracting emotions like love. As he felt the other spark pulsate in time with his, however, he could only admit it.

Though life would be quite tranquil without love… it would be incredibly dull, too.

-------------------------

_A/n:__ Though not stated in the piece, this is taking place the night before the Ark is launched. That's why the two lovers decided to just go for it. _

_Apologies if any reader expected smut, but it's not my strongest point and I think my attempt would have been mediocre, to say the least._


	11. Kick Ass

_A/n: Takes place some time after the episode "Roll For It". From now on, most of the stories will take place on Earth_

_Featuring: Thundercracker_

_------------------------------------------_

If the Decepticons were good at something, it was studying their enemies in order to find any sort of weakness that they could use to their advantage. It was no coincidence that Soundwave had so many cassetticons at his disposal, able to observe and record every Autobots' movement, stance and fighting technique. So, when Soundwave showed Megatron the recordings of a particular battle that occurred while the Decepticon leader was considered dead, Megatron deemed that he had found an officer vulnerable enough to capture.

After all, by Megatron's logic, it would take a pretty pathetic Autobot to become defenceless by a single blast and then need a flesh creature's help to fight.

At least, that was how much Prowl could guess as he swerved abruptly to the left to avoid Thundercracker's rays. Moreover, the Decepticon must have been following him for quite a while, for he chose to attack as soon as Jazz drove away and let Prowl to continue the patrol on his own.

"You can run, but you can't hide, Autobot!" the Seeker declared, still firing at the police-car.

"You would be surprised at what I can do," Prowl retorted and he swerved again. He just needed a few more seconds to calculate the right angle and Thundercracker's position…"Especially when my battle computer isn't crashed!"

Thundercracker realised his mistake too late. As Prowl veered to his right, his metal roof reflected the sunlight directly to the Seeker's optic sensors, blinding him. Before the jet had any time to recover, Prowl had already transformed to his robot mode and launched himself upwards, managing a direct uppercut on the jet's nose. Thundercracker tried to reset his stabiliser at that hit, but it wasn't possible. He crashed onto the ground, knocking himself out on impact.

Prowl landed on the ground with experienced ease, thus completing his leap, and assessed the outcome of the battle.

_Victory: Flawless. _

Allowing himself the luxury of a triumphant grin, Prowl transformed and continued on with his patrol.

* * *

_A/n:_ _Thundercracker wasn't harmed during the making of this story (well, okay, maybe a little...)_

_For the record, there's also a vid of Prowl kicking some ass, except he takes on Soundwave. Here's the link: http:// www. youtube. com/ watch?v = 6oi6pYJxLd8 (Just copy and paste, then delete the spaces. If it doesn't work, then just look it up using "Prowl Vs Soundwave" in the search button.)_

_And make sure you check the other guy's vids as well. They're brilliant. :)_


	12. On His Knees

_Featuring: Mirage_

* * *

"Hey, Prowl," Mirage said, already stepping into the tactician's office. "I've finished my report, just like you… asked."

"Thanks, Mirage. Put it on the desk and I'll check it as soon as I can," Prowl said.

Mirage didn't move though. He kept staring at the odd sight that was unfolded before him, since he wasn't sure why Prowl was kneeling on the floor, resembling some sort of devout pilgrim in a holy land.

"Sideswipe assured me the glue will wear off in an hour," Prowl replied in a natural tone, as if describing the weather.

Mirage blinked, then left the report and walked out, thinking it was a lovely day outside and he should go out for a drive in his invisibility cloak. He didn't want to be anywhere near the Ark when Prowl finally stood up and went after a very cheeky red Lamborghini.

* * *

_A/n: This was supposed to have been an angsty piece, but Sides had other ideas. XD_


	13. Caring

_Featuring: Bluestreak (no surprise there, I think... ;) )_

* * *

The night at the Ark was quiet, since most of the Autobots had retired to their dorms. Even Prowl was in his room and lying on his berth, but he was far from recharging. Though it was well past midnight and the tactician had to report for duty at the crack of dawn, Prowl still wanted to add some last finishing touches on the training drills he and Optimus organised earlier today. So, the officer kept the light on his nightstand on and worked on the datapad containing the drill schedule.

A shifting sound to his left reminded Prowl that he wasn't alone in the room. He turned to the direction of the noise and looked at Bluestreak, half-expecting the young one to sigh and tell him that he should get some rest.

Nothing of the sort happened. Bluestreak simply shifted in his sleep and kept recharging, unaware of Prowl or the light in the room. Smiling inwardly, Prowl returned his focus to the datapad and continued on with his work, certain that he would finish in an hour or so. His audios picked up the sound of Bluestreak's recharging engine on occasion, but it hardly distracted him.

Sure enough, an hour later, Prowl was almost done. He only needed to finish the last paragraph and he would call it a night.

At that moment though, Prowl also registered that Bluestreak's breathing sounded different; more hitched and laboured. Prowl snapped his head up and looked at the gunner to see what was wrong.

Just as Prowl feared, Bluestreak's recharge was no longer a restful one. The young one was curled on his side and shivering, trapped in a nightmare that the tactician knew quite well. It was the same one that still haunted Bluestreak even after all those years, reminding him of the destruction of his city – of his loss.

This was all too familiar.

A choked whimper reached Prowl's audios, making the tactician's spark wrench violently. Placing the datapad aside before even realising it, Prowl stood up and walked up to Bluestreak, then sat down by his protégé's side carefully so he wouldn't startle him. He caressed the faceplate with light fingers, a gentle shushing sound flowing out his vocaliser in the hopes that it would somehow appease the young one.

It wasn't much, but it was the best comfort Prowl could offer.

Bluestreak didn't wake up at the touch. As an unintelligible murmur flowed out of his lips, one of his hands reached instinctively for Prowl's, gripping it tightly and holding it close to the silver chest, very much like a human child held a stuffed toy animal. Prowl, however, made no attempt to pull away. He simply stayed at Bluestreak's side, waiting patiently for Bluestreak to calm down, and remained watching over him even after the young gunner finally slipped back to a peaceful recharge. He only left at the first light of day, exiting the room as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping mech.

The other Autobots didn't seem surprised to see their second-in-command worn out and obviously in need of a rest. They were certain Prowl overworked himself like always, and Prowl never bothered correcting them.


	14. Dancing

_Featuring: Blaster_

* * *

Despite popular belief, Prowl knew how to dance, and he knew how to dance quite well. There was nothing challenging about it, after all. It was simply a matter of disciplining your body to a series of steps and hand movements and then synchronise them to the beat of the music. If there was a dancing partner too, then dancing was no different than sparring. It kept one strong and agile, while the mind remained focused and at the ready at all times.

That, however, didn't explain why Prowl was in a disco large enough to fit two tall Cybertronians like himself and Blaster, instead of getting the communications officer back to base like he was supposed to once their patrol was over. And it certainly didn't explain _why _he was shaking the lower half of his body right beside the orange mech, who danced along and connected their hips at every sway.

"Blaster… how did you talk me into this?" Prowl asked, just when Blaster grabbed him by the hand and they started dancing as a pair.

Blaster grinned and span the tactician around. "With my outstanding charm and charisma?"

Prowl frowned, even as both mechs stood side by side and did what Spike always described as a "Travolta move".

"Seriously… _How _did you talk me into this?"

Blaster just grinned more and said nothing, immersing himself to the sound of the music. Seeing that he wouldn't get an answer, Prowl had no choice but to let go and follow his friend's example.

He could think about the how and why when they returned to the Ark.

* * *

_A/n: Don't look at me, I don't know how Blaster did it either. XD_


	15. Naughty

_Featuring: Ark Ensemble_

_-------------------------------------------------------------  
_

Prowl was working in his office when he heard quite a commotion outside in the corridors. Not sure what to make of the sound of rapid footsteps and excited voices, Prowl decided to investigate matters further. He placed his datapads back in the drawer and then walked outside.

"Bumblebee, what's going on?" he asked, noticing the yellow minibot running down the corridor.

"You mean you don't know?" Bumblebee exclaimed, coming to a halt in front of the tactician. "The whole Ark is buzzing with the news!"

"Know what?" Prowl asked, not really understanding.

"It's snowing, of course!" Bumblebee answered happily. He grabbed Prowl by the wrist and started dragging him like an eager kid. "Now hurry up! Everyone's outside and playing!"

Prowl tried to say that it was fine, that Bumblebee could go out on his own while the tactician would just go back in his office to continue with his work; but it was of no use. The yellow minibot was quite the unstoppable force when he put his mind into it, and Prowl couldn't find it in his spark to say anything. So, a few moments later, Prowl found himself standing by the entrance of the Ark, looking at the rest of the Autobots as they had fun. Hoist, Trailbreaker, Grapple, Inferno and, to Prowl's great surprise, _Red Alert_ were busy building a snowbot. Cliffjumper, Bluestreak and the Aerialbots were lying on the ground, flailing their arms and legs to form snow imprints. As for the rest of the Autobots, they were engaged in a full out war, throwing snowballs at each other in the wild hopes of hitting their targets.

"Hey, Prowl!" Jazz said, waving at the tactician enthusiastically. "Wanna join the fun?"

"Uh… no," Prowl replied, "It's not my thing, Jazz, you know that."

Jazz shook his head at that. "Suit yourself," he said, then ducked before Hound's snowball got him in the faceplate. "Okay, now you're dead!" he declared in mock indignation and hurried after the jeep.

Prowl couldn't help it. A small smile tugged on his lips and he leaned against a nearby rock, feeling a sense of contentment settling in his spark.

Just then, the tactician caught sight of something very… intriguing. The twins were crouched behind another rock formation, their backs turned to him. And Prowl also spotted a tree right next to them, its branches stretched out over them and heavily covered with snow.

Now _that _was too tempting.

Prowl checked his surroundings, making sure no one was looking at him, and hastily picked up some snow to form two snowballs. Keeping both projectiles out of sight, he calculated the correct angle and speed required to ensure 100% success in his plan, and then threw the snowballs straight at the tree.

The amount of snow that landed on the twins was even more impressive than Prowl had anticipated. The Lamborghinis didn't even get a chance to yelp in surprise as they vanished under a thick cloak of white.

Chuckling softly, Prowl headed back inside before the twins saw who pulled that stunt on them.

Jazz was right. That _was _fun.


	16. Exhausted

_A/n: This is the first part of a small arc within the Tactician's Life one-shots. More will follow._

_Featuring: No one. Just Prowl himself. ;)_

* * *

Prowl let out an inaudible sigh and rubbed his temple to ease the ache he was feeling in his cranial unit. His other hand, however, never let go of the datapad he was reading, for it contained information about the last battle between the Autobots and the Decepticons. The tactician wanted to study it in order to assess the strategies used by both factions, because it was important for Prowl to improve his battle tactics.

It would also be a much easier task if his lids didn't droop shut every few seconds, but it couldn't be helped. He had already put this off for far too long because of all the other duties he had to attend to, and Prowl decided that he couldn't postpone it any longer. So, he was now stuck in his office in the middle of the night, trying not to think that he hadn't gotten any recharge in the last two days, and that the most logical thing to do was to leave matters till tomorrow morning, after some proper rest.

He clenched his jaw when he saw the letters dancing before his optics for a third time in the last five minutes. Determined not to let his fatigue get the better of him, he brought the datapad so close to his face that his nose almost touched the screen, and he started reading everything from the beginning. All he needed was half an hour. A mere thirty Earth minutes and he wouldn't have to think about the datapad ever again.

The thought had barely enough time to cross his mind. At the next moment, his forehead impacted with the smooth surface of his desk, and he drifted off to a blissful slumber, both datapad and tactics utterly forgotten.


	17. Obedient

_A/n: Direct continuation of Exhausted._

_Featuring: Ratchet_

* * *

Prowl onlined his optics, only to find himself lying on a berth, and Ratchet staring down at him. What was worse, the medic had his arms crossed and didn't look pleased at all.

"What am I doing here? I was in--"

"Your office? Yes, I know," Ratchet said, tapping his foot. "That's where Jazz found you, sprawled on your desk and your energy levels dropped to a minimum. You know what that means, of course."

Prowl cringed inwardly, watching Ratchet getting out of subspace a datapad and a stylus. _Here it comes…_

"Congratulations. You've just earned yourself two weeks of vacation, starting as of tomorrow," Ratchet declared, handing Prowl the newly-written datapad. "Show this to Prime on your way out."

Prowl sat up, staring at the medic in disbelief. "Ratchet, you're well aware that I can't leave my duties unattended."

"Oh, don't worry. Jazz has already volunteered to do your work while you'll be enjoying your sick leave."

"He doesn't even know where to start! I'll need to give him a full debrief as well as--"

Ratchet placed his arm across the tactician's shoulders, smiling.

"Prowl, I'm more than just the Ark's medic, I'm also your friend. So, you either take that vacation tomorrow or…" At that, his arm wrapped around Prowl's neck, veritably trapping the tactician, "…I drag you to the brig right this minute and have you stay there for a month. Do I make myself clear?"

Prowl cringed visibly this time.

"Crystal."


	18. On Vacation

_A/n: Direct Continuation of Exhausted and Obedient._

_Featuring: Smokescreen_

* * *

Prowl sat on his berth, his body as tense as a bowstring. It had been three days since Ratchet gave him that vacation, and the tactician thought he was going mad.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate some rest once in a while. There were even times that he secretly wished for a day off. He still didn't like the idea of this forced rest that Ratchet prescribed him, and he certainly didn't like the fact that Optimus forbade him to do anything that resembled work during those two weeks of sick leave.

Prowl opened his communication frequencies with a sigh. He could ask for a regular report on things at least, and that was a comforting thought.

"Prowl to Jazz. Any problems so far?"

"Nah, all quiet at the western front, buddy," Jazz answered, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Just like it was ten minutes ago when you last asked."

Prowl blinked in surprise. Was it really only ten minutes? He checked the time-reading on the computer screen.

It _was_.

"My apologies, Jazz. I just--"

"Hey, man, don't worry about it. I understand," Jazz said, "But try to relax, okay? Don't go all Red Alert on me."

"I won't," Prowl said, and ended the transmission. He drifted his gaze in every direction and he subconsciously rubbed the fuel lines of his neck as if trying to rid an invisible lump that had settled there. The very walls seemed to close around him, depriving him of precious air.

_I really am losing my mind._ With a huff, he headed to the table, where there was an energon cube that he could drink. He hoped that would help.

It was then that he heard the sound of the call-button. Prowl had to admit that he was surprised, since Bluestreak was supposed to return from his patrol in two hours. Still, curiosity got the better of him, so he opened the door.

If Prowl was surprised before, now he was simply astonished to see who was before him.

"Smokescreen? What are you doing here?" he asked.

Smokescreen didn't acknowledge the question. He simply walked in, barely noticing the door hissing closed, and looked at Prowl from head to toe.

"Boy, Bluestreak wasn't kidding when he said you look like an army of ant-droids crawled up your exhaust pipe."

Prowl didn't catch all the comment at once, but he soon realised what the problem was. So, he lowered his doors, which had been standing rigidly behind his back, then unclenched his hands. Thinking that he should be courteous to his unexpected guest, he also put his energon in two smaller cubes so as to offer one to Smokescreen.

"Did Bluestreak also tell you to check up on me?" he asked. He tried to keep his tone pleasant and nonchalant, but it didn't seem to work. He felt far too tense and Smokescreen certainly noticed it. His former trade as a gambler enabled the blue Datsun to read any mech like an open book – he had to know when he was being bluffed, after all.

"You can't blame him if he feels concerned," Smokescreen said, taking the small cube with a nod of thanks. "He was even ready to ask Optimus to give him a day off so he could keep you company. Don't look so alarmed. Jazz talked him out of it."

"What did he say?" Prowl knew that Bluestreak only meant well, but the tactician didn't want the young one to neglect his own duties on his account.

"He promised Bluestreak he'll take care of everything."

"Good. I don't want Bluestreak overreacting like that," Prowl said. "Besides, I'm fine."

"Is that why you look at the walls as though they're about to lunge at you?"

Prowl stiffened again. He first thought was of denying any such thing, but he knew Smokescreen wouldn't fall for that even for a second. The blue Autobot was already smirking knowingly as he took a seat and crossed his legs in a relaxed manner.

"Prowl… you realise that the point of taking a vacation is to relax, right?" he said. "And if there's someone who needs to loosen up for once, it's you. Everyone knows that."

Prowl's grip on his cube tightened. "Maybe so, but I can't relax while I'm in this room, hoping that nothing will go wrong. I'm still the second-in-command and a military strategist, Smokescreen."

"True," the blue Datsun said, "And yet you seem to forget that Trailbreaker and I are also strategists, and you did say once that Ironhide and Jazz fill in your position effectively as Prime's second when you're away. Besides, who asked you to stay in your room anyway? It's a nice summer day outside. You could take a stroll around the area to see what you can find. If you keep your mind focused elsewhere, you'll hardly notice the time passing."

Prowl pursed his lips momentarily. He had to admit that Smokescreen's words made sense. If the atmosphere was stifling, the most logical course of action would be to get out. It was unacceptable that Prowl hadn't thought of it before, and it was also a hint that perhaps he needed that vacation after all.

"Fair advice," he noted. "I'll do as you say."

"Excellent," Smokescreen said. He emptied the contents of his cube in a gulp and stood up. "Well, now that my work here is done, you'll have to excuse me. I have to see to some other business I have."

"Yes, of course," Prowl said, following the other Datsun out the door. "Till later, Smokescreen."

"Later, indeed," Smokescreen said. While he walked towards the interior of the Ark, Prowl went to the opposite direction with the intention of making the most out of his outing.

----------------

"Did it work?"

Smokescreen smirked and walked up to Prowl's desk, where Jazz was now sitting. "Yes. And I got him out in less than five minutes, so you'd better have the two high-grade cubes you promised."

"Don't worry. I've got them," Jazz said with a smile and got out of subspace the two cubes. "Thanks."

Smokescreen grinned. "Anytime. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

And with that, he took the cubes and walked out. He had to tell Bluestreak that Jazz kept his promise.


	19. Exploring

_A/n: Direct continuation of Exhausted, Obedient and On Vacation._

_Featuring: A seagull_

* * *

After an hour of aimless wandering in his alternate mode, Prowl was beginning to feel restless once more. Although he had kept his scanners at the maximum setting, he hadn't been able to find anything of interest. Worse, he now caught himself wishing even for a Decepticon to come along, just so he wouldn't feel so bored.

That meant one thing, of course. His outing was a failure, and the best he could do was return to the Ark. It was with that thought that Prowl turned off his scanners and drove towards the main road.

Just then, a strange yarping sound reached his audio sensors. Prowl put on the brakes and curiously looked up, because he was quite sure that it came from the sky.

Another yarp pinpointed the source of the sound. It was a large white bird, circling above him. Prowl marvelled at it, studying the aerodynamic shape that enabled the creature to use the air currents flawlessly without having to flap its large, powerful wings even once; then the long orange beak; and, finally, its webbed feet that were tucked safely under the plumage of its belly.

He knew what kind of bird it was. Hound had mentioned them before in one of his reports. Still, Prowl never expected to see one of them himself, for they weren't frequent in the mainland. In fact, they preferred to be close to water, such as large lakes or…

The bird yarped again and flew westward, as though inviting the tactician to follow it. Seizing his chance, Prowl started his engine and kept his sensors on the bird. He didn't lose sight of it even when he had to transform so that he could walk the rest of the increasingly rocky terrain on foot. He didn't care when he scratched his legs while climbing a rather steep slope. And he certainly didn't mind when the sand that he stepped on by the end of his trekking found its way to his inner circuitry, itching him terribly.

The sight of a jade-coloured sea, sparkling under the sun as if it was a precious jewel, made it all worthwhile.


	20. At The Beach

_A/n: Direct continuation of Exhausted, Obedient, On Vacation and Exploring._

_Featuring....?_

* * *

Prowl sat on one of the largest rocks that were scattered on the beach, then breathed in the salty air in contentment. It was strange, but he felt a rare sense of peace and calm surrounding him. The bright sunlight warmed his plating, the sound of the crashing waves soothed his audios, and he could only smile at the sight of the seagulls as they mingled so harmoniously with their environment. Almost like the Dinobots, playing football just a few feet away from him.

Prowl stopped that train of thought with a mental screech.

_The Dinobots?!_

The tactician looked to his left again, just in time to see the football landing on his lap… then all five Dinobots lunging at him to get the ball.

Prowl only had that much time to brace himself for the incoming pain.

* * *

_A/n: *whistles innocently* What?_


	21. Dishevelled

_A/n: Direct contination of Exhausted, Obedient, On Vacation, Exploring and At The Beach._

_Featuring: Optimus Prime_

* * *

Optimus was standing outside the base and watching the sundown, when he saw something he didn't expect. Sure, there was nothing wrong with Prowl walking back to the Ark after an outing. It was certainly strange, however, that his second-in-command was covered in sand from the tip of his chevrons to the tip of his feet, his movement strained.

The Autobot leader watched incredulously as Prowl walked up to him with quite the dignified expression on his face - what was visible of it anyway.

"Permission to use the washracks, Sir."

At first, Optimus made a motion to ask what happened, but he stopped midway. Something in Prowl's posture warned him that he _didn't_ want to know.

"Permission granted," he finally answered, and let Prowl march inside without another word.


	22. Bath Time

_A/n: Direct continuation of Exhausted, Obedient, On Vacation, Exploring, At The Beach and Dishevelled._

_Featuring: Sunstreaker_

* * *

Prowl headed straight for the washracks, not paying attention to the stares he earned from any Autobot he happened to pass by. All he wanted was to get rid of the sand as soon as possible, then go to his room and sleep. He hadn't been able to transform with all those grains accumulated in his joints and circuitries, and he had to walk all the way from the beach to the Ark. Not pleasant at all.

The door to the washracks opened with a soft whooshing sound, and Prowl walked in to activate the shower. A sigh of relief escaped his vocaliser as the lukewarm water hit his chassis, washing away the dirt. He stayed under the spray of water with his optics closed for a few minutes to savour the sensation, then reached for the cleaning solution. He dabbed a good portion of it on a scrub, and he was about to start cleaning himself when a voice behind him stopped him.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

Prowl turned around. Sunstreaker was indeed standing at the threshold, regarding him with the scrutiny of a mother who had just caught her sparkling doing something very wrong.

"Funny sort of question coming from you," the tactician answered. "I'm having a bath."

Sunstreaker shook his head. "Hardly. It looks to me like you're about to peel your paint off." He stepped closer, examining Prowl's body. "Is that how you always wash?"

Prowl kept his features neutral as he looked back at the yellow Lamborghini. "Not that it's any of your concern, but yes."

Sunstreaker let out a snort. "Figures," he muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Prowl asked, raising an optic ridge.

Sunstreaker ignored the tactician's question and picked up a sponge from another stall. "Turn around."

In all honesty, Prowl felt his patience wearing _very_ thin.

"Sunstreaker, I'm tired, it's late, and I want this over and done with. So, please…"

"Nope. I said: Turn around."

Prowl held his doors higher behind his back and positively glared at the Lamborghini.

"I'm still your superior, Sunstreaker. I can always change my request into an order."

"You can if you want. Or you can turn around and let me do this the right way," Sunstreaker answered, hardly fazed.

Though Prowl opened his mouth to send Sunstreaker away, he stopped himself at once as he realised something important. Arguing with the yellow Lamborghini over something so trivial only delayed his shower and his chance for some proper recharge. Moreover, ordering Sunstreaker out wasn't only extreme under those circumstances, it was also inappropriate. A fellow Autobot didn't deserve that kind of treatment, no matter how annoying they were presently.

So, Prowl slowly turned his back to Sunstreaker.

"Don't take too long. As I said, I'm tired," he said.

"I'll be done soon enough," Sunstreaker said, already applying a generous amount of cleaning solution on the sponge. Rich, aromatic foam formed in seconds, and Sunstreaker started cleaning Prowl's back. "You should be grateful. I don't do this for just anybody."

"Then why now?" Prowl asked. He closed his optics before realising it, relishing the soft sensation of the sponge on his circuitry. He relaxed his shoulders and bowed his head to give Sunstreaker better access to the higher seams.

Prowl was sure that Sunstreaker made a small shrugging motion. "If you don't intend on taking care of your paintjob, the least you can do is not to abuse it," he answered. "You don't have to look older than you really are."

"I see," Prowl said, allowing the Lamborghini to wash his arms next. Come to think of it, he should have expected it, really. As an artist, Sunstreaker's sense of aesthetics was more finely tuned than others', to the point that he'd touch up anything that he felt needed an improvement. This time, it happened to be the tactician.

"Turn towards me."

Prowl complied, not objecting in the least when Sunstreaker started washing his hood and his mid-section. The yellow Lamborghini certainly knew what he was doing, keeping his movements firm without discomfiting the tactician. Better still, the circling motions of the sponge on his plating loosened those aggravating tension-knots that riddled his circuitry, making him feel truly relaxed for the first time in a long while.

"Don't fall asleep on me yet, I'm almost done."

Prowl simply nodded his acknowledgement and rested his back against the wall so that Sunstreaker could work on his legs. His mind was focused on one thing only now, and that was the comfort of his berth. But he wasn't sure if he'd be able to walk all the way to his dorms on his own in such a weary state.

"Lean on me."

Prowl blinked in mild confusion, surprised to see that the Lamborghini finished washing him. More than that, he placed one of Prowl's arms across the yellow shoulders, while Sunstreaker's arm wrapped around his waist to offer the tactician support.

"Come on. Let's go, Prowl."

The tactician nodded just once, then let Sunstreaker guide him out of the washracks and towards the dorms' area.

"Sunstreaker?" Prowl couldn't believe how weak his voice came out.

"Yeah?" the Lamborghini asked curiously.

"If you see Ratchet, tell him I _promise_ not to overwork myself again. Vacations are more exhausting."

Sunstreaker chuckled. "Will do."

* * *

_A/n: And that's the end of the small arc. :)_


	23. Playing With Kids

_Featuring: A couple of kids_

* * *

When Prowl started working in his office that particular spring day, the last thing he expected was to hear faint clopping sound right outside his door. Deciding to look into matters, he got up from his seat and opened the door.

His computer almost crashed when he nearly stepped on two tiny white animals, but the creatures didn't seem frightened of him. They merely looked up at him with large brown eyes and let out a loud 'meeeeh' sound, not moving.

Prowl stared back at them, then slowly activated his communication frequencies.

"Sideswipe… Do _you _have something to do with a couple of four-legged organics currently inside the Ark?" he asked. Though his tone was soft in order not to startle the creatures, he made sure his reprimand was audible.

"I wish," the Lamborghini answered from the other side of the link. "Why?"

Prowl didn't get the chance to answer. At that moment, the organics jumped away, kicking their legs in the air as they did so, and Prowl had to transform to give chase.

If anyone happened to be close to the Ark at that moment, they would be shocked to hear the wailing of sirens, as well as a series of surprised yelps from any unsuspecting Autobot that the police-car sped by.

A large burly human, who was walking beside Beachcomber at the moment, certainly was.

"What's going on?" he asked, unsure.

Beachcomber just chuckled and guided the man inside the Ark.

"Mr. Camp… I think we've just found your missing goats."

* * *

_A/n: I thought I was being original with the particular idea, but apparently there are at least two more fics that used baby goats as a plot device. *sigh* Oh well, I hope the ficlet made a fun read anyway. :)_


	24. Transforming

_Featuring: An OC by the name of Faera. If you've read Dweller In Darkness, you know who and what she is. If not and you are curious to find out anyway, just go and read that story._

* * *

Prowl drove on, trying not to mind the freezing winter air that whistled by him. It was mid-January, one of the coldest times of the year, and probably no one in their right mind would circulate in the middle of the night if they could help it. Although the stars shone brightly in the dark blue sky, the temperature was way below zero. Prowl could actually feel icicles forming on his undercarriage.

That was the problem though. Prowl wasn't out here because he had suddenly gone mad or anything like that. He hadto go outside the Ark because the Portland police force asked him to. There had been a break-in in a research facility, and the chief inspector assigned to the case wanted Prowl's opinion on the matter. As it turned out, the Decepticons _were _behind the break-in, using Laserbeak to infiltrate the facility as a tape; Prowl could detect the spy's energy signature all over the place. Prowl didn't know what the Decepticons were looking for, nevertheless he promised the chief inspector that he'd report to Prime and organise an investigation. So, he was now driving back to the Ark with his thermostat working to the maximum, thinking about the hot bath he planned on having as soon as he was out of the cold.

Finally, a quarter of an hour later, Prowl caught sight of the Ark entrance. Smiling inwardly in relief, the tactician initiated his transformation sequence.

A terrible suspicion crawled up the back of his processor when his gears didn't respond, no matter how hard he tried. He revved his engine loudly, he squirmed, he used all kinds of relays to get his pistons to budge, but it was of no use. He was stuck, frozen in his automobile mode. Apparently, his thermostat could only keep him warm that much.

Sighing in defeat, Prowl decided that there was nothing for it. He would have to drive inside the Ark and wait in the control room until his circuitries got warm enough to allow him to transform.

He wasn't in the least surprised when he spotted Faera sitting on a chair in front of Teletraan I; the tactician was aware that she was on surveillance duty. The Sadjen, on the other hand, seemed quite perplexed when she saw Prowl driving into the room.

"Why are you still in your alternate mode?" she asked, her green eyes regarding him curiously.

"I'm frozen," Prowl admitted.

"Oh." She frowned a bit, clearly thinking that this wouldn't do. "Do you want me to help?"

"Would you?" Prowl said. Perhaps he sounded a bit more desperate than he wanted to at the moment, but he was past caring. He wanted to get back to his robot mode and stretch his limbs.

Faera understood and smiled. "Sure thing," she said, and got off the chair. She placed both hands firmly on Prowl's hood. "Just tell me if it becomes too much, all right?"

"I will," Prowl said. In the next moment, a wave of warmth surged through him, reaching even the smallest crevices of his form in such a pleasant way that his engine hummed. As Faera still passed her energy to him, he caught himself taking in as much heat as possible, his gears twitching at the sensation.

Hold it. If his gears were twitching, then that meant…

"Is that enough?" the Sadjen asked, sensing Prowl's fidgeting.

"I think so," Prowl said. "Step back for a moment."

She complied, keeping her eyes locked on Prowl. The tactician concentrated to force his transformation cog to operate, but it was unnecessary. In one fluid motion, his axle span around, allowing his legs to unlock from their bent position. His hands were free too, so he pushed himself upwards until he was standing. His doors spread open like wings behind his back and, lastly, he lowered his hood to reveal his head. Wishing to rid himself of the last remnants of ice, he rotated and flexed his joints as well.

"Better?" Faera asked, a broader - almost teasing - smile on her lips.

"Yes," Prowl replied, rewarding her with a small, friendly smile in turn. "Thank you."

"Any time," she said, and she sat back on the chair to resume her duty.


	25. Book Reading

_Featuring: Carly

* * *

  
_

"…It is believed that physiognomy is only a simple development of the features already marked out by nature. In addition to this development, however, the features come insensibly to be formed and assume their shape from the frequent and habitual expression of certain affections of the soul. These affections are marked on the countenance; nothing is more certain than this; and when they turn into habits, they must leave on it durable impressions..."

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Prowl look up from his datapad and in the direction of Carly. Indeed, the woman was standing at the threshold of the nursery with quite the amused expression on her features.

"Is there something wrong?" the tactician asked.

She chuckled and walked over to the small bed located beside Prowl. Little Daniel was so far lost in the land of dreams that he didn't even stir when she covered him with his blanket.

"Prowl, when I asked you to read Daniel something so he could sleep… I didn't exactly mean _that_."

* * *

_A/n: In Prowl's defence, it did work. ;)_


	26. Horny

_Featuring: Bumblebee and Spike

* * *

  
_

Bumblebee turned around on his seat at the sound of a door hissing open, not in the least surprised to see that it was Spike. His human friend looked as though he had just woken up, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and holding a cup of coffee in the other.

"Slept well?" the minibot asked with a smile.

Spike made a wry face. "Next time I'm stationed in a Moonbase, remind me to take a mattress with me."

Bumblebee chuckled. "That bad?"

"Well, no," Spike admitted, sipping some of his coffee and taking a seat next to Bumblebee. "If you're a Cybertronian, that is."

"Don't worry about it. We've only been up here for a month; you'll get used to things," Bumblebee said and turned his gaze back to the monitors. His optics flashed brilliantly as he recalled something important. "Incidentally, I got a message for you just an hour ago. It was from Carly."

Spike sat up, his stiffness and cranky mood forgotten. "What did it say?"

"I don't know, buddy," Bumblebee replied, smiling at Spike's reaction. "Why don't you download it to find out?"

The human grinned, already typing the password so he could look at his messages, and then clicked on the most recent one. Moments later, he stared at the screen, and Bumblebee heard a very familiar "Aww…" sound.

"Let me guess. Daniel drew something?" the minibot asked, a knowing smile on his lip components.

"Yup," Spike answered. "You're in it too."

"I am?" Bumblebee certainly didn't expect that, so he leaned closer so he could look at the picture better. "Hey, what do you know, it _is _me!"

Indeed, Daniel had drawn a picture, which he had titled in large red letters _Dad's Friends._ Bumblebee easily identified himself as the yellow boxy figure standing next to Spike, and he also spotted Optimus Prime. The minibot smiled to see that Optimus was bigger than everyone else, including Skyfire and Omega Supreme. It looked like the infant believed that the most important within the Autobot ranks should be the tallest one as well.

In fact, it looked like Daniel drew the Autobots in such a way that their most prominent characteristic stood out. Jazz, for example, had a set of headphones, while Brawn's arms were much thicker, indicating his strength. Ratchet was holding a wrench that was almost as big as him. Ironhide was wearing a large cowboy hat, and Bluestreak was holding a revolver like some sort of sheriff. The twins were up in the 'air', obviously practising their jet judo. Wheeljack was all black because of all his… accidents. Hound was double, a clear sign that one of the two was supposed to be a hologram, and a grey spot on the bottom of the picture was clearly Mirage's shadow.

Bumblebee guffawed, however, when he caught sight of a black and white figure that wore a pair of bright red 'horns' that were much larger than the figure's head.

"Please tell me you'll show this to Prowl," he said.

"Of course not," Spike declared.

The minibot let out a sound of disappointment, but Spike was far from finished.

"I'll wait till we're off duty."


	27. Greedy

_Featuring: Chip Chase (well, kinda)_

* * *

Everyone knew that Prowl spent most of his time in his office, even here on Moonbase I; the particular mech was well known for his workaholism. What the other Autobots _didn't _know, however, was that Prowl was currently focused on a particular datapad that had been puzzling him for the last three days, that his optics reflected a deep frowning expression and his fingers were playing with a stylus in an agitated manner.

Prowl pursed his lip components. He realised that he was missing something important, and yet he didn't seem able to see it, no matter how long or hard he looked at the datapad. He could simply stop and accept defeat, true; but his stubborn side wouldn't have it.

He _was _going to solve this puzzle. The alternative wasn't an option.

And then, finally, he saw it. Optics widened in realisation, and he put his stylus to work.

_Top right corner… 3. Lower left corner… 8._

He added a few more numbers and, at the last entry, the datapad went black. Moments later, two words flashed on the screen.

_You win._

Prowl's lips tugged into his rare triumphant grin, and he made a mental note to ask Chip to send him _more _Sudoku games.

* * *

_A/n: There are actually two more chapters in this meme, rather than 28 as expected. However, they are both dealing with the 1986 movie and I don't think I have to say what *that* means. If you don't want to deal with the depressing theme that will follow tomorrow, you should probably stop reading right here._


	28. Excited

_Featuring: Bluestreak_

_

* * *

_

_Now… Have I forgotten anything?_

Prowl looked around his office once more, making sure that he had left everything in order. Of course, he was sure that Jazz would keep the place anything but tidy, yet there was nothing for it. Not since Jazz would take up the second-in-command duties for as long as the tactician would be away.

That reminded Prowl that he hadn't left a note with his last instructions to Jazz. True, he gave the saboteur most of them earlier that solar cycle, but Prowl had to make sure nothing was omitted. His best friend or not, third-in-command or not, Prowl's profession as a tactician didn't allow the Datsun to leave anything to chance. With that thought, he sat at the desk once more and opened one of the drawers to find an empty datapad and a stylus.

He was certainly surprised when his optics locked instead on a framed picture, lying at the bottom of the drawer. A warm sense of fondness surged his spark as he recognised the item, and he picked it up to have a better look at it.

It was an old picture of him and Bluestreak, one that Spike took back in 1987. Both Datsuns were in the control room, doing surveillance duty, but decided to indulge the young human anyway. Bluestreak immediately posed with a big smile on his face and holding his right hand in the Earthen 'thumbs up' gesture. Prowl, on the other hand, spared only a brief glance in the camera's direction, a very neutral – or, as Sideswipe always put it, Prowl-esque – expression on his features before resuming with his work. In fact, he had completely forgotten about the picture up until seven years ago when he was ready to leave for Moonbase I.

* * *

_Prowl closed the small trunk that held his belongings, the sharp click echoing throughout the room. He briefly checked the time reading on the computer screen to make sure that he wasn't running late on his schedule, and then cast one final glance at the place that would be only Bluestreak's room from now on._

_That was it. It was time to go, though a part of him didn't really want to. He didn't think it was possible, but he would miss Earth. In these last fourteen years, he had acquired knowledge and friends that he hadn't gained in the last few million years. Those were the things that he would keep closest to his spark, along with memories that he wouldn't trade even for the Matrix._

_He shook his head as he realised he was forgetting himself. Heaving a deep sigh, he picked up the trunk and moved towards the door._

_He froze when he saw the door opening, revealing Bluestreak standing behind it. The young one frowned when he saw the tactician carrying the trunk._

"_You're leaving?"_

_Prowl smiled a bit. "Without saying a proper goodbye to you? I think not." He regarded Bluestreak in a puzzling manner, unaware that he cocked his head the same way Bluestreak did whenever the gunner was baffled. "I thought you were on duty. I was heading to your post."_

_Bluestreak scratched his head embarrassedly. "Yeah… uh… I asked Springer to cover for me. But I'll get back within the hour, I promise! I know better than to make him stay at my post the whole shift. I mean, it wouldn't be fair to him if I didn't go back, since I've already told him I would be back soon and you always say we should be mechs of our word…"_

"_So what's so important that you had Springer cover you?" Prowl asked casually, his smile broadening a bit as though he hadn't just been catapulted by a torrent of words._

_Bluestreak stopped his babbling in an instant, recognising Prowl's way of keeping him focused. "I didn't want you to leave before I gave you something."_

_Prowl had to admit that he didn't expect that. "What is it?" he asked._

"_Well, this," Bluestreak answered with a half-shrug. He opened his arm to get out of subspace a small rectangular thing, which he handed to Prowl shyly._

_Prowl looked at the item, his optics widening as he recognised the picture, magnified to Cybertronian-size and even framed._

"_It's… It's not much," Bluestreak stammered, unsure what to make of Prowl's reaction. "I just used glue, some cardboard, several spare bolts and screws that Ratchet had so I could make the frame, and then Sunstreaker lent me his paints so I could make it a bit more colourful and…"_

"_It's perfect."_

_Bluestreak's face lit up at once. "You mean it?!"_

"_I doubt you've heard me say things that I didn't mean, Bluestreak," Prowl answered, opening his own arm to subspace the picture. "It'll be the first thing I'll place in my new office."_

_The young one's lips tugged to a big smile that reached his audios and he embraced Prowl tightly. _

"_Take care," he said in a soft tone._

"_You too, Bluestreak."_

* * *

White fingers traced Bluestreak's form in the picture before Prowl could help it. It had been seven years since the tactician and the gunner parted ways, yet it felt like only yesterday. In fact, if Prowl put his mind to it, he could almost see Bluestreak sitting across from him, talking constantly with his childish exuberance and enthusiasm.

Except… Bluestreak wasn't a child anymore. He'd made the first steps to independency and now he could stand on his own feet flawlessly. More than that, Bluestreak was truly happy, leaving the darkness of his past well behind him. Prowl saw and heard it only too clearly whenever he conversed with Bluestreak on those rare moments that they could afford it.

_You don't know how proud I am of you,_ Prowl thought with a smile. _I'll tell you when we meet again._

"Ironhide to Prowl," Ironhide's voice sounded, cutting into the tactician's musings. "It's time for us to go."

"Copy that," Prowl said, activating his transmitter. "Are Ratchet and Brawn with you?"

"Already aboard and waiting."

"Then I'm on my way. Prowl out," Prowl answered and ended the transmission.

This was it. He was going back to Earth, and he was actually giddy with anticipation. He looked at the picture again and, after subspacing it in his arm, he headed out the door with two last parting words.

"Lights out."

The room went dark.


	29. Remembered

_Featuring: Sideswipe_

* * *

"When I first met Prowl, he seemed like this huge block of ice that simply stood there, looking at me and Bro without even so much as a smile on his lips. Though not taller than me, he had this poise of someone _towering_ over me, ready to hand over judgement if I so much as challenged him.

"I guess that was what triggered my first pranks as an Autobot. It was a way of telling him that I accepted his challenge and I dared him to stop me. And, boy, did we keep our hands full - him trying to predict my next prank and me trying to stay one step ahead of him. An endless cycle where there was no winner or loser – just the fun of the chase.

"But of course you don't want to hear that. You were there almost from the start, witnessing the whole thing. You were even the one that once nicknamed us 'Tom and Jerry'."

Sideswipe chuckled before he could help it, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. It was nightfall, and there were no other Autobots about to see the red Lamborghini sitting cross-legged on the floor, his back resting against one of the many doors that were in that particular area of the Autobot City.

It was just as well. Sideswipe wanted only one Autobot to hear what he had to say.

"It's weird, you know. One would have expected us to hate each other after all those years we drove each other crazy. But, the truth is… At those moments, I'd forget there was a war around us, so it was okay to feel carefree. I think he suspected as much, and that was why he always tolerated my antics when others would have discharged me long ago. That… and he didn't want me separated from Sunstreaker."

He clenched his hands into fists in an attempt to compose himself, trying not to think of the sorrow that was gnawing at his spark; but it was too blasted hard.

"For someone that was supposedly so cold and emotionless, he sure does a good job at making me wish he was still here. But I don't have to tell you that either, do I?"

The only answer he got was silence. Sideswipe pressed his head wearily against the door.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is… Even though I probably don't understand how you feel, I know it hurts. And if you want to talk to someone, I'm here. I'm not Prowl, but I'll still listen. Just don't shut yourself out, Bluestreak, okay?

"You're not alone."

Yet there was no answer from the other side of the door. Bluestreak remained seated on his berth with a badly battered picture in his hands, one of the few things that could be salvaged from that ill-fated shuttle that cost so many lives. Trembling fingers traced the familiar black and white form the gunner would never see again, and he kept staring at it, his optics filled with tears that Bluestreak stubbornly refused to shed. He knew that it wouldn't bring Prowl back.

Nothing would.


End file.
